Eiji cracked open the clubroom door like a soldier breaching enemy territory.
His soul? Already fifty percent dead.
The rest? Still reeling from the previous period's public execution, Chicken Dance Eiji: Meme Lord of Damnation was trending. There were GIFs. There were dubstep remixes. Someone even added subtitles in Latin.
He shuffled inside like a tax-paying ghost.
"…Just once," he muttered, "just once, can I walk in without losing a chunk of my dignity?"
The lights flickered.
A low hum vibrated through the air.
Then— FOOM! A magical projection exploded mid-air, dramatic and way too HD, like a war documentary directed by Michael Bay.
Standing front and center was Kirika Barbatos, arms crossed, expression carved from stone, cloaked in her signature obsidian uniform. She'd just returned from declaring war on logic.
" Attention, combatants, " she barked, her voice crackling like a radio tuned to the apocalypse.
Eiji froze.
"…No. No, no, no— not again ."
Kirika's eyes gleamed with caffeine-charged tyranny.
"Today's match shall be…" She paused for maximum trauma. " Swimsuit Sumo Wrestling. "
Silence.
The room's collective brain cells tripped over themselves.
"…Come again?" Eiji blinked.
"Victory condition: Ring out… or moral collapse," Kirika intoned as the hologram glitched like a final boss cutscene.
Eiji grabbed the nearest chair like it was a lifeline. "I'm going to die … in swim trunks."
"OOH!" Amane raised her hand like a preschooler answering her favorite question. "I got a new frilly bikini! I can help Eiji learn gentle sumo! "
"That's not even a thing!! " Eiji barked. "You just made that up with sparkles!"
By the window, Miya sat silently, polishing a blade disguised as a hairpin on a whetstone. She didn't look up.
"I'll wrestle," she said coolly, "if he touches me."
"That's not a volunteer form! That's a promise of murder! "
Ayaka crossed her arms tightly, electricity crackling faintly around her. "This is… ridiculous. Vulgar. Refuse to participate in such base—"
She glanced at Eiji.
He blinked back.
Her face flushed a dangerous crimson.
"…behavior," she finished weakly.
Eiji pointed, horrified. "You're blushing! "
"It's a lightning reaction!" she snapped. "Scientific!"
" LIGHTNING ISN'T PINK, AYAKA! "
Across the room, Aika Lucros sipped rose tea like she was in a completely different genre—poised, graceful, terrifying.
She set her cup down with surgical calm. "Let's see if the devil can wrestle… with temptation."
Eiji looked around the room.
A bloodthirsty introvert.
A chaos-loving cherub.
A tsundere storm goddess.
A refined demon in human skin.
And him.
Just… him.
He threw his hands up.
"This school needs to be exorcised. "
The door creaked open.
In walked Seraphina, clipboard in one hand, calm smile in place. "Ah. I see the hologram has already been played. Good. I made themed outfits for everyone."
"…Why do I feel like mine has feathers?"
From the hallway, a cluck echoed.
Everyone turned.
Eiji's eye twitched.
"This is a special kind of absurdity," Eiji muttered, his eye twitching as he held up the cursed garment with trembling fingers as if it might bite him.
"No," Aika murmured, lips curling.
"This… is the Combat Club. "
"Alright, what the actual flaming hell is this?" Eiji held up the cursed garment with trembling fingers as if it might bite him.
It was supposed to be a pair of combat trunks
Keyword: supposed
At first glance, it looked… harmless. Basic. Maybe even a little sporty.
Then he touched it.
It purred
Yes. Purred Like a smug little demon cat.
"It responds to emotional energy," Riku explained calmly from the corner, tapping away at a glowing, floating keyboard like a mad scientist with tenure. "Reactive Espiria fiber. Custom-enchanted for maximum soul-user synergy."
Eiji stared at him like he'd just suggested putting salsa in ramen.
"…Why does mine shrink when I get embarrassed!? "
Riku adjusted his glasses, utterly unbothered. "Bug. Or feature. Depends on your perspective."
" YOU'RE THE CODER!! "
All around them, the dressing chamber shimmered with magic. Swimsuits—no, magical atrocities —hovered mid-air, glowing softly like cursed lingerie in a JRPG shop.
One by one, they floated toward their victims like seductive ghosts.
Amane caught hers with starry eyes. "Oooooh~ It sparkles! And it has ribbons! And hearts that glow when I blush! Kyaaa~!"
Eiji choked. "That's not armor! That's a freakin' Valentine's Day death trap!! "
Riku deadpanned. Sparkles improve the dodge rate. Technically."
Miya didn't speak as usual. She turned her back, slipping silently into a dark blue suit—clean, practical, and blessedly modest.
…Until she walked past Eiji.
Flash.
A slit opened on the hip. Then another. The neckline dipped—just a bit. Enough to cause blood pressure spikes in a five-meter radius.
Eiji flinched. "Uhh… Miya? Your suit's glitching."
She didn't even glance at him. "It reacts to verbal attacks."
"…Like what?"
She turned her icy gaze on him. "For example… if someone called me flat ."
"Nope. like living."
Meanwhile, Ayaka stood off to the side, glaring daggers at her battle gear—high-tech armor with elegant gold trim.
Ayaka, glaring daggers at her battle gear, suddenly clenched a fist. ZAP. FLASH. The armor exploded into a shimmering micro-bikini that defied both logic and gravity. The unexpectedness of the transformation left everyone, including Eiji, in shock.
ZAP.
FLASH.
The armor exploded into a shimmering micro-bikini that defied both logic and gravity.
" WHAT THE HELL—?! " Ayaka shrieked, diving behind a locker like the Holy Grail had betrayed her.
Eiji yelped and shielded his eyes. "That's not armor; that's witchcraft in string form! "
Riku muttered without looking up, "Your Espiria affinity recalibrated the output. More lightning equals less coverage. It's just standard magical thermodynamics." His deadpan delivery only added to the humor of the situation.
"STANDARD?! BASIC PHYSICS MY— "
"Eiji," Aika called from the sidelines, sipping her never-ending tea like a smug Bond villain. "Would you prefer to submit your resignation form now or after your swimsuit finishes its… assimilation?"
He spun toward her, panic rising like a tide, yanking at the waistband of his cursed trunks like a man fending off demonic possession.
"They're… moving. I swear they have teeth. Something just licked me!"
Aika smiled beatifically. "Become one with your fabric. Let fate take the wheel."
"
BOOM.
A closet burst open like a divine judgment.
Seraphina stepped out, clipboard in hand, glasses glinting ominously. "Next: team compatibility check. No complaints. No mercy."
Ayaka's hair crackled.
Amane squealed in delight.
Miya raised her pen with chilling precision.
Eiji dropped to his knees in front of his haunted swimwear, defeated.
"…This school's dress code violates the Geneva Convention. "
"Ladies and degenerates," Seraphina's voice echoed from atop the club podium—now suspiciously remodeled to resemble a wrestling commentator's platform—"Let the first match… BEGIN!! "
The crowd erupted. Cheers, howls, a rogue kazoo—chaos in surround sound.
Eiji clutched the railing like a man barely holding onto his sanity.
"If these trunks tighten one more time, I'm filing a magical harassment lawsuit."
"Focus on the match, perv," Ayaka muttered, arms folded tight across her chest.
"It's not me! It's the trunks! They're cursed, I swear!"
Down below, the field glowed with barrier runes, forming a shimmering circular sumo ring. Amane Yukishiro stepped onto the platform from the Research Club's side like a magical girl entering a catwalk. Her frilly pink swimsuit sparkled softly, reacting to the gentle flutter of her heartbeat. She waved sweetly to the crowd like she was here for tea and compliments.
Across from her towered the challenger: Yura Stormglade, one of the Student Council's enforcers—possibly forged in a protein lab.
Jet-black ponytail. Bronze-toned muscle definition. Biceps that could crack coconuts. And cleavage that looked genetically engineered to break the laws of physics.
Yura bowed with stoic grace. "I request a clean match. I shall not fall to distractions."
"Okay~!" Amane chirped, clasping her hands behind her back. "But I trip a lot, teehee~!"
Eiji tensed. "Oh god. It's starting…"
DING! A magical bell rang through the arena.
ROUND 1 – BEGIN!
Yura moved like she'd trained her whole life for this—steady footing, calm breaths, every step sharp with confidence, and years of martial arts drilled into muscle memory.
Amane skipped.
Twirled.
Tripped.
"Oopsie~!"
THWUMP.
She faceplanted into Yura's chest.
The crowd gasped.
Yura's left eye twitched. A visible vein on her forehead throbbed.
"W-What was that maneuver…?! "
Amane looked up innocently. "Oh~ I slipped~!"
Eiji's fingers dug into the rail. "No. No, don't… don't sparkle—"
SPARKLE. Her frills lit up like a magical disco.
" Heartbeat spike detected, " Seraphina called. "Frill glows at 94%. Style bonus applied. "
" What kind of cursed grading system is this?! " Ayaka yelled.
Yura lunged—precision grip, full-body torque—only for Amane to pirouette like a ballet dancer dodging an IRS audit.
"Neutralize target. Maintain posture. Breathe—" Yura whispered to herself.
BA-DUMP.
Another sparkle.
Another "Oopsie~!"
Amane tripped again—this time landing face-first into Yura's chest.
Yura froze.
Then, it went bright red
Then, it began wobbling like a construction crane in an earthquake.
"Y-You… You are a vile temptress!! "
Amane blinked. "Hmm~?"
Then, with a single, casual hip-bump—soft as a whisper—she nudged Yura off balance.
Skid. Stumble. Stagger.
THUD.
Yura crashed outside the ring like a Greek statue getting canceled.
" OUT OF BOUNDS!! " Seraphina announced with a raised fist. " Victory: Yukishiro Amane!! "
The crowd exploded
Banners flew. Glitter cannons detonated. Someone launched a confetti spell from a balcony.
A guy in the back screamed, "OUR HOLY SAINT IS UNDEFEATED!! "
Amane stood in the center of the ring like a magical Disney idol, hands clasped, frills twinkling like celestial judgment.
Eiji sat frozen, eyes wide, a single trickle of blood running down his nose.
"Did she just… weaponize innocence ?"
Ayaka tossed a towel at his face. "Wipe it, Nosebleed Demon."
Still scribbling like a man documenting forbidden science, Riku muttered, "Conclusion: Cuteness is a Class-S debuff."
Eiji could only nod faintly, a towel pressed to his face, whispering to no one in particular—
"We're so… so doomed ."
"Up next—Kuroryuu Eiji versus Glayze Reon!"
Seraphina's voice echoed like a war drum dipped in sarcasm. She stood tall at the announcer's podium, the kind of smirk on her lips that could only mean one thing:
This was psychological warfare. And Eiji was the unlucky foot soldier.
Eiji stood frozen at the edge of the sumo ring, arms slack, lips twitching, eyes wide with dread.
"I forfeit," he announced, already mid-turn.
Step.
Miya was suddenly in front of him.
No words. ... stare.
Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
Her presence alone dropped the room's temperature by five degrees.
Eiji wilted like a dying houseplant. "Okay! Okay! I get it! No forfeit! Going in! I'm brave! Brave! Look at me, bravery incarnate!"
Behind him, Ayaka muttered, "More like a sacrificial chicken in high definition."
From the opposite side entered Reon Glayze, another student council combatant and walking thirst trap. His tank top clung to his water-slicked abs, and sunglasses perched on his forehead indoors because he was that guy.
He pointed finger guns at Eiji. "Hope you brought floaties, chicken-boy."
Eiji twitched. "I will destroy you… With the ancient art of panic and poor decisions."
DING.
ROUND TWO – BEGIN!
Reon struck first, summoning twin water whips from thin air. Geysers erupted beneath his feet, splashing across the ring and soaking Eiji in a humiliating blow.
SPLOOSH.
Eiji stared down.
His trunks.
Shrank.
Tightened.
Clung to him like fabric, trying to merge with his soul.
"Oh god… they're vacuum-sealed to my regrets—"
"Speed buff applied," Riku announced, casually adjusting his goggles like a science fair commentator.
"I didn't ask for a speedo boost!"
Reon smirked. "C'mon. One more splash, and you'll be too indecent to stay in the match."
Miya, arms folded, monotoned from the sidelines: "This is educational."
"Stop calling my magical trauma educational!! "
Then… he noticed it.
The floor sparkled.
Not just decoration. Not innocent. The glitter moved —like little glowing landmines of shame.
"Seraphina…" he growled. "You turned the ring into a bedazzled battlefield! "
She waved cheerfully. "We call it Hazard Mode. Adds flair!"
Reon lashed out with another water whip—crackling, coiling, beautiful.
Eiji dodged. Kind of.
His foot hit glitter.
He spun.
Slipped.
Flopped.
CRASH.
By fate, physics, or demonic comedy, Eiji's flailing hand caught Reon's waistband.
There was a moment.
It was a brief, terrible moment.
"Wait—don't you da—"
THWIP.
THWUMP.
KERSPLASH!!
Reon was launched
Through the air.
Across the room.
Into the pool.
Like a human missile wrapped in muscle and bad life choices.
Silence.
Then— BOOM.
The crowd erupted in Laughter. Screaming. Magical fireworks. Someone in the back yelled, "WORLDSTAR!! "
Seraphina stood up, raising her arm like a judge declaring a miracle.
"Ring out! Winner: Kuroryuu Eiji!"
Eiji sat in the middle of the ring, legs splayed awkwardly, glitter everywhere, his cursed trunks clinging to him like they'd survived the battle.
"…Did I just strip victory from the jaws of defeat?"
Ayaka sighed and facepalmed. "This school's going to be banned from the interdimensional league."
Sipping tea calmly, Aika asked, "Did he just… fanservice his way to victory? "
Miya nodded, dead serious. "Tactically."
From the pool, Reon's soggy voice echoed:
"I GOT LAUNCHED BY BOOTLEG SUMO PHYSICS! THIS SCHOOL IS RIGGED!! "
Eiji slowly curled into a ball in the glitter.
"I wanna go home…"
Riku, without looking up, updated the scoreboard with cold efficiency:
Kuroryuu Eiji – 1 win, zero dignity.
The audience lost their minds.
"The Sumo Queen's Judgment: Lightning vs Law
Thunder rolled through the arena as ominous black clouds gathered overhead.
No one questioned it anymore.
This was Devil Academy.
Reality packed its bags and left ten chapters ago.
"Combatants," Seraphina's voice boomed across the field, now laced with something between divine judgment and reality TV host energy.
"Final match— Vice President Ayaka Ryuzen versus President Kirika Barbatos! "
The arena went still.
Even Eiji, who was currently wrapped in an emergency towel burrito with lifeless eyes, sat bolt upright.
"This is it," he whispered. "Clash of the Titans. Or like... two angry goddesses in bikinis with unresolved HR violations."
From the left gate, Ayaka strode into the ring. Sparks danced from her fingers. Her armored swimsuit shimmered—elegant, functional… powerful…
FLASH.
"Wha—?! Not again! " she yelped, snatching a towel around her waist as her battle armor warped into a string bikini that could barely survive a light breeze.
She glared at Riku. "If this thing drops one more strap, I'm using the fabric. "
"Noted," Riku muttered, writing 'Swimsuit malfunction = combat enhancement?' on his clipboard.
From the right, Kirika Barbatos entered as if the courtroom had just been called to session.
Calm. Confident.
Every step is judicial.
Every breath is a clause.
She adjusted her collar with precise elegance. "This bout shall proceed under Article 7, Clause 13—no technique exceeding Level 4 impact unless justified by imminent ring-out."
Ayaka blinked. "Did you just cite a law at me?"
"I wrote the law."
DING.
ROUND THREE – BEGIN!
Ayaka moved first, lightning sparking as she blitzed forward, fingers charged and ready to strike.
Kirika sidestepped.
Smooth.
Effortless.
Then flipped Ayaka like a seasoned martial arts champ.
WHAM.
"Objection," she said coolly, pinning Ayaka to the floor. Improper form. Excessive emotional output."
Ayaka growled from beneath her, cheeks flushed red.
FLASH.
The bikini glitched again.
"STOP DOING THAT!! " she screamed, wriggling free in a sparks blaze.
With a defiant roar, Ayaka launched skyward with a thunderburst, lightning trailing from her heels.
Kirika adjusted her gloves. "Excessive voltage. Subsection B violation."
" Subsection THIS, legal lady!" Ayaka howled, diving with a spin-kick of electrified fury.
The crowd screamed
Kirika countered with a perfect parry, then deleted Ayaka across the ring like a ballerina with battlefield clearance.
BOOM.
They clashed mid-air, again and again. Lightning and law. Thunder and rules. Beautiful chaos wrapped in absurdity.
Ayaka's top glitched.
Kirika's judicial robe fluttered.
Someone in the crowd passed out from blood loss.
Seraphina jotted a note: "Audience stamina cap breached. Consider buffer zones."
They landed hard. Sliding. Tumbling. Barely balanced. Bikinis are now held together by pure magical spite.
Dust settled.
The arena went silent.
"Are they… alive?" Eiji croaked, still hugging his towel like a war survivor.
"No clue," Aika said, sipping iced tea like watching a summer blockbuster.
Riku's tablet pinged. "Magical strain at 97%. Combat equilibrium achieved. Audience vitals… critical."
Miya, deadpan as ever: "They nuked the fanbase."
Seraphina rose slowly. She slammed her gavel straight into a ceremonial cake someone had left on her desk.
No explanation.
Just vibes.
" MATCH DECLARED A TIE! "
The crowd either cheered or fainted.
It's hard to tell which.
Ayaka dropped to one knee, sparks still crackling from her hair.
"I swear to the thunder gods… I'm burning this swimsuit."
Kirika, utterly unbothered, dusted off her shoulders.
"Next time, try reading the"
Eiji clutched his chest dramatically.
"That was the sexiest lawsuit I've ever seen."
"Post-Match Paralysis "
The sun dipped low over the shattered battlefield.
The ring was in ruins. Glitter drifted lazily through the air like radioactive snowflakes.
A freshman sat in the corner, still bleeding from the nose, eyes glazed over like he'd seen the face of God, and she winked.
A single rubber duck floated past in the aftermath.
No one knew where it came from.
No one asked.
And in the center of the chaos, wrapped in a school towel like a war refugee who had seen far too much, sat Eiji Kuroryuu
Rocking gently.
Eyes hollow.
Voice barely a whisper.
"…I saw too much. Lived through too little."
Ayaka dropped beside him, bandaged and sparking with residual lightning like a short-circuiting toaster.
"We didn't even win," she muttered, sounding more offended than disappointed.
Eiji didn't look up. "We didn't lose, either. But my soul did."
Aika strolled over, looking pristine, her teacup now tragically empty.
"My tea got cold," she said with the same emotional weight one might use to announce the world's end. "That's the real loss."
Over by the student council's side, Yura Stormglade clutched her battle gear as it betrayed her.
"I was taken out… by sparkles and squeals."
Next to her, Reon, still drenched from his earlier humiliation, flopped onto the bench with the grace of a defeated dolphin.
"I got deleted by Panic Pants. I don't even know what that means. But I felt it."
Kirika Barbatos quietly adjusted her jacket with militant precision atop the commentator's podium. She didn't say much, but how her eyes gleamed said everything.
"Student Council... will remember this."
Meanwhile, Seraphina, goddess of chaos and unofficial Chairwoman of Unregulated School Events, had turned the judge's throne into a plush beanbag.
She sat with legs crossed, a smirk on her lips, and the air of someone who had just watched the world burn and called it performance art.
"Well~ That concludes today's friendly exhibition," she said, clapping her hands once.
" That was friendly?! " Eiji choked.
Aechoed. Riku appeared beside her, projector in hand like a magical PowerPoint demon.
"Next scheduled event," he announced flatly. " Magical Maid Café Mayhem. "
The room went silent
Even the wind stopped blowing.
Ayaka's eyes narrowed. "Magical. .. what now? "
"Combat maids," Riku clarified. "Point-based scoring. Categories include service speed, outfit control, and suggestive presentation efficiency."
Amane gasped like she had just gotten a proposal. "Kyaa~! I've always wanted to wear cat ears!"
Miya gave a solemn nod. "I own a maid turtleneck. Black. Armored. Steel-threaded lace."
Eiji twitched violently. "Why does everyone have maid gear?! What is this—some sparkle cult?! "
Seraphina descended the steps with all the grace of a final boss in a dating sim. She stopped in front of Eiji and crouched down.
And stuck a small pink post-it to his bare chest.
He blinked.
Then looked down.
"You're the head butler, dear. Good luck. ♥"
He let the note fall like it had burned his very soul. "Nope. I'm out. My locker's cursed. My life's a game show. I should invent accidental stripping jutsu ."
Ayaka smirked, folding her arms. "You could always skip school."
"Not an option," Eiji groaned. "Last time I did that, Seraphina sent a flaming cake to my house."
Seraphina sniffed, mock-offended. "Excuse you. That cake was delicious. "
The dismissal bell rang. Students groaned. Some limped. A few had to be carried out on stretchers made from broomsticks and moral trauma.
Eiji finally stood, towel still wrapped like his last shred of dignity.
He turned to face his locker.
A chill ran down his spine.
The flashbacks hit—
The glitter minefield.
The sentient swim trunks.
The Post-it of doom.
He squinted at the locker like it owed him money.
"…I am never opening another locker again."
To Be Continued...